


Two Nights in Éire

by NuclearNik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Marriage, F/M, Ireland, Sirens, magical mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik
Summary: Granger and Wood—Employees of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—are sent to Ireland on an assignment, and end up leaving with a bit more than they bargained for.Written for Hermione's Haven Roll-A-Prompt 2019Winner: Best Plot Development, Best LocationRunner up: Best Characterization, Best Relationship Development





	Two Nights in Éire

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love to HufflepuffMommy for helping me brainstorm and figure this out. And thank you to my All-Things-Irish consultant, PureBlood_Muggle! You're both amazing <3

When Hermione first stepped foot in Ireland, she was unsurprised to find that it was pouring rain. 

The bracing wind coming off the sea nearly knocked her off balance. In October, the weather was perpetually damp and cold, and the many layers she'd wrapped herself in could only help so much.

Over the sound of crashing waves, Hermione heard her partner call out to her. "Just up ahead there on the left, Granger."

Through the sheets of rain, she could make out a small cottage set back a bit from the road. It was twilight and getting dark quickly. 

They made their way through the front gate, squinting against the wind all the while. The big wooden door in front of them opened, and a smiling face popped out. 

"Come on in," The elderly woman in the doorway beckoned them. "Hurry now! You'll catch your death of cold out there."

Hermione and her partner, Oliver Wood, stepped inside, and carefully set their bags on the floor.

The woman closed the door, shutting out the freezing weather.

"Welcome to Inis Oírr, dears."

Hermione shook their host's hand. "Thank you, ma'am. You have a lovely home."

"It's not much, but it will do."

"Ma'am, would you mind pointing me to our rooms? I'll carry our luggage up," Oliver said. The woman told him it was just up the stairs, and he set off, a trunk in each hand.

"Would you like some tea, dear?" Their host led Hermione to the kitchen that was tucked just off of the sitting room.

"That would be lovely, Mrs. McCarthy."

"Please, call me Rose." She flicked her wand to fill a kettle and set the tea to steep.

They'd been sent to this sleepy wizarding town in the Aran Islands because reports of missing boats and fisherman lost had been inundating the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Mrs. McCarthy was head of their division at one time, now retired. She knew the town intimately and was acting as their point person, even being kind enough to offer them accommodations.

Hermione loved her job. Ensuring the welfare of citizens while enforcing respect for the rights of creatures was perfect for her. There was a lot of red tape, and Hermione frequently found herself infuriated by how slow the process of implementation of any change was, but it was a cause she was devoted to.

When Oliver Wood, of all people, had walked into the department office one morning and set up at the desk beside Hermione, she'd been curious about what brought him there. What happened to Quidditch? He was damn near married to the sport and had been from minute one.

Over the next few days, they got to know each other, bonding over coffee and maple crullers—Hermione's favourite.

Having suffered an injury a few years into his career, Wood found himself at a loss. He got a job with MACUSA and had been living and working in America for the last year. His mother was ailing, and he didn't like being so far away from her. He requested a transfer to the MoM and ended up as Hermione's partner.

She'd been pleasantly surprised to find that they had more in common than they thought. 

He didn't love his job _ quite _ as much as he loved Quidditch, but it was close. Wood was of a singular focus—when something needed to be done, he wouldn't stop until it was finished. It made him an excellent partner, someone who matched Hermione's rabid determination to see things through. 

All that Scottish charm was awfully compelling, and Hermione could admit that she enjoyed the flirty banter they sometimes shared—outside of work, of course.

Oliver finished with the trunks and headed down the stairs, soft thumping heralding his arrival.

Mrs. McCarthy set two ceramic mugs onto the small table in the corner, filling them to the brim with herbal-scented tea.

Hermione reached into the pocket of her trousers, pulling out a mini notebook and pen. She and Wood had prepped by reading most of the information about the case, but there were things reports missed that were better to get straight from locals—the people who know the area best.

"Can you tell us when strange things started happening? 

"Of course. This is a fishing town. Boats are coming and going at all hours of the day. At the start of summer, there were several accidents, just one right after the other. It didn't garner much attention because the sea is an unpredictable force—the accidents weren't enough to raise alarm. We tend to have a few each season, most minor."

"What sent up a red flag?" Hermione asked.

"The accidents became more frequent and more intense. People were getting injured at an alarming rate. Then the disappearances started."

Hermione looked up from her notebook to see her partner listening intently to every word. He wasn't great with people, preferring actions to words, but he was a stickler for detail. Hermione considered herself an observant person, but Wood was on another level. It came in handy when they were working cases with lots of layers. 

"Rose, can you tell us more about the disappearances?"

"Mostly it was sailors and fisherman, just vanishing like a puff of smoke. But then last month, a couple of tourists took a rowboat out to the cave—it's hidden when the tide is high but drains of water when the tide is low. It's quite the popular spot for out-of-towners. If you stay near the mouth during low tide, it's mostly safe, but the cave is deep and can be dangerous if one were to follow it too far back."

Pausing briefly for a sip of tea, Mrs. McCarthy continued.

"The couple had taken all the necessary precautions and should have been fine. The woman made it out all right, but her husband wasn't so lucky. I-Oh, give me just a minute. This old brain doesn't remember as much as it used to. Let me get the report from my files."

Glancing in the direction the woman had gone, Hermione said, "She's very sweet." Over the last few months, Hermione had learned that her partner was not a fan of small talk, but old habits die hard, and long silences made her uncomfortable. They'd learned to accommodate each other, and Wood now entertained her small talk from time to time.

"Aye. Reminds me of my ma."

Hermione set her notebook down and wrapped both hands around her steaming mug, feeling the warmth seep into her bones. She really didn't like dreary weather. Someday she'd move to a sunny place where it was always bright and warm. 

Mrs. McCarthy returned with a file in hand and began to recount the witness' statement, filling in gaps here and there with local knowledge. Hermione scribbled notes.

> _*Inside cave, beautiful but eerie music was heard _
> 
> _ *Wife attempted to convince husband to leave and head back _
> 
> _ *Husband refused, swam deeper into cave as if in a trance _
> 
> _ *Wife pulled at him, screamed his name but got no response_
> 
> _*Husband slipped out of boat and disappeared into depths of cave _
> 
> _ *Body found floating in the bay the next day _

"Well, I think we've covered it all. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't believe so. All signs seem to point to sirens. I brought a few books as a reference point, so I think I'll spend the evening flipping through them. Thank you for your help, ma'am."

* * *

The next day, Hermione and Oliver were up before the sun.

Sirens were most active at dawn and dusk, when the light was low and played tricks on the eye.

Last night, Hermione had been up longer than she should have been for such an early start. 

Her late-night research paid off, though, because she found a passage in one of the books that referenced _ another _ book, one that hopefully contained the information she was seeking. 

She had roused the poor librarian at an ungodly hour to open the library on the island so Hermione could search the shelves. She'd let out a shout of victory, and dashed out of the tiny building into the mist of rain, wand tip lighting her path. 

In the dim glow, the large mural painted on the side of a barn was visible. It was charmed, a by-the-minute headcount of all those who were in the town, and how they were connected. If one were on the run, this certainly wouldn't be a wise place to hideout. 

Mrs. McCarthy had told them about the mural yesterday. It was created by the founders of the town, during a time when war raged among wizarding clans in the area. It started as a safety precaution to better protect the citizens. Though the threat had long ago passed, the town kept it up, preserving it as a piece of history. 

Hermione found it to be less helpful and more like a prime breeding area for gossip. You could learn all sorts of things from it—who was married, if they had a child or if they were pregnant. All pretty intrusive to a person's reasonable expectation of privacy, if you asked her.

Shaking her head at the mural, Hermione hurried to the shore, where Oliver was waiting with a rickety rowboat.

"I found the book!"

"Well done, partner."

Stepping into the boat, Hermione grabbed an oar and watched as Oliver untied them from the dock.

They made it to the cave in record time—the water was quiet. When they reached the mouth, Hermione grasped her wand and cast a revealing spell. They had been correct—there was definitely at least one siren living or frequently visiting this area. Sirens were a protected species, but ensuring safety for areas with human life was well within the jurisdiction of the Beast Division.

The ward Hermione found would not harm the siren, just keep them from returning.

She flipped through the thick tome she'd brought, taking care to be gentle with the worn pages.

"Aha! Here it is. Read from there," she said, pointing to the correct paragraph. "We have to say it at the same time."

_ Adeochosa inna husci _

_ do chongnam frim _

_ Ateoch nem talmuin _

_ Cruinn in tsainrethaig _

As they spoke, the water began to glow, as if it were lit from within. The area directly beneath the spot they'd pressed their wands to started to bubble, a rolling boil like spaghetti in a pot.

Nearly as suddenly as it had started, the bubbling ceased, releasing a burst of light that dissipated into the morning fog. "I think we've done it, Wood!"

"I believe what you mean is that you've done it, Granger. I was simply the ferryman," he said, tossing a wink in her direction.

As she opened her mouth to reply, Hermione felt an odd hum of magic roll through her. 

She looked at her partner, confused. "Did you feel that?"

"Aye. From the spell?"

"The book didn't say anything about that. It's just warding the area."

"Mmm," was all she got in reply. She looked over at Oliver to see him looking at her with a tender expression. It was odd, but she found it strangely compelling. It felt like her magic was stirring within her.

Almost as if in a trance, Hermione took a deep breath and scooted forward on the bench she was seated on, bringing her face inches away from her partner's. Her words didn't come out as steady as she hoped. "Do you—that is, would you like—" 

"You want me to kiss you, Granger?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It seems so. I don't really know why, but it would be a shame to waste such an intimate moment."

One corner of his mouth turned up, and then he was pressing his lips to hers and kissing her in the most delicious way.

_ Oh my._

The hum she'd felt came to a peak when they made contact.

When they finally pulled apart, Hermione couldn't keep a smile off her face. "Wow. That was... Odd.

"What a ringing endorsement, Hermione."

"Oh stop, you know what I mean. Something is off and I need to research. But beyond that, I think you might be an even better kisser than you are a ferryman, and you're a very good ferryman, so that's saying something." 

The laugh that echoed off the cave walls gave Hermione a warm and fuzzy feeling in her belly.

With one last glance between them, they dipped their oars into the water and began the short journey back to shore.

* * *

"Congratulations, you two!" 

"Cheers."

That was the third person who had stopped Hermione and Oliver in the street to congratulate them. The first two times, they thought the townspeople were talking about their successful handling of the siren.

But then a little old lady taking a walk with a friend said, "Congratulations! Young love is so sweet. Aren't they sweet, Maggie?" 

Maggie wasn't very talkative, apparently, because she just hummed in response and kept trekking ahead at a snail's pace, thumping her cane on the ground with each step.

The strange behaviour from the everyone, combined with the weird urge they'd had to kiss each other earlier, made Hermione realize something was wrong, and she didn't know what it was.

Hermione _ hated _ not knowing something.

She set her jaw, determined now, and held out her hand to stop her partner's stride.

"Wood, something fishy is going on here. We need to figure out what it is. _ Now_."

* * *

"I'm sorry, _ what_? Married? How is that even possible? There were no vows!"

"I believe you, Ms. Granger, but the fact remains that you are bound—in every sense of the word—to Mr. Wood. As you—and everyone else in town—saw, the two of you are magically connected. As much as the thing annoys me, the town mural doesn't lie."

"Oh my god." Hermione paced the short distance between the clerk's desk and the door, rubbing her temples and tugging at her hair. "This is a nightmare."

Wood whistled through his teeth. "Tell me how you really feel, lass."

She turned, ready to apologise, but stopped upon seeing the amused look on her partner's face. 

"I didn't mean—"

"Not to worry, Granger. I get it. I thought I'd leave here with a belly full of Catholic whiskey—wasn't planning on a wife."

Hermione breathed out a laugh. "This is crazy. We can't be married. Shouldn't intent count with something like this? Is this spell—whatever it is—the reason we kissed?" she asked, turning back to the clerk.

"I'm afraid you said the words, and the magic doesn't care about intent, Ms. Granger. To be frank, this town has had some truly… eccentric characters in the last century. I can't say for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if some witch scorned by her lover cursed the incantation in some roundabout form of revenge. Whatever the curse was imbued with is trying to push you together."

"Can't we appeal to the—to—I don't know, the Ministry, or something?"

"You can. However, the magic that bound you is ancient and complex. Reversing it will likely be involved and complicated. All I can do for you today is to get you an appointment with the Magical Accident and Catastrophes Department for next week."

"But what about— "

"I'm an office clerk, ma'am. I don't have the answers you're seeking."

The harried clerk looked like she was ready to kick them out the door, and Hermione was hit with a wave of guilt. Her frustration was with the ridiculous situation they found themselves in, not with the poor witch behind the desk just trying to finish up her workday.

"Of course. You've been very helpful." Hermione reached across the desk to shake the clerk's hand. "Thank you, truly."

The tightness bracketing the clerk's mouth eased just a bit, and she said, "My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

The newlyweds headed down the steep stairs that led out of the office. It was then that Hermione realised just how exhausted she was.

When she stumbled on a stone she hadn't seen, Oliver wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

"Easy there, tiger."

"Thanks. I've had enough of this day, wouldn't you agree? Take me to a pub so I can drown my worries in Guinness and ketchup. I want a big, huge basket of chips, and I won't be satisfied until it's in front of me in all its starchy glory."

"Aye aye, captain. To the pub we go."

* * *

Two beers in and Hermione was starting to warm up to the idea of being legally bound to her work partner.

"Besides, what's a little marriage between friends, eh?"

Oliver threw back his head and laughed, raising his glass to clink it against Hermione's.

"Cheers to that."

"I hope you can understand, Wood, when I say that though I don't want to be married to you—or to anyone at the moment, for that matter—you're a good bloke and an excellent kisser. At some point, I wouldn't mind a date."

"We'll just have to work backwards then, won't we? Nearly unbreakable bond first, then I'll come a-courtin'."

"So we'll try then? When we get back home".

"I'm up for it if you are, love."

Though she wouldn't admit it just then, that endearment sounded rather nice coming from his lips. She wouldn't mind hearing it again.

But for now, she'd drink and eat and hope someone had some extra pain relief potion lying around for tomorrow morning when she'd wake up for their appointment at the Portkey Office with a dry mouth and pounding head. 


End file.
